


Fixture

by aerstwhyle



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: A little on the weird side if you ask me honestly, Ayato-centric, Drabble Sequence, Drabble story, Family, Gen, Introspection, Short, Sibling Love, Slight Ayahina, au-ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2018-12-01 14:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11488362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerstwhyle/pseuds/aerstwhyle
Summary: Always the leaver, never the left.





	1. Lonely Little Boy

 

It’s raining.

 

“You don’t have to.”

 

The windows shake.  The roof tremors.  The walls choke him, feeling so close to collapse that he wants to turn and run away.  His feet don’t move.  Her face is stone, her eyelashes wet.

 

“You know I have to.”  And he notes that she sounds almost sad.

 

Her eyes look so lonely lately.  He wonders why.

 

_Are you leaving me?_

 

He asks, “You’ll be back?”

 

She smiles, and it is a sad little thing.  “Yeah.”

 

Her skin looks so pale…as though she were already dead.  His gut clenches.

 

He wants her to hold him.  It’s irrational and immature, but he wishes that he was young and five years old again, wishes that they were as they were before, when it was just her and him.  The way she would hold him close, so warm and so alive, as though hiding him away from all the bad in the world…. 

 

He wonders if her hands still have scars. 

 

Wonders if she ever misses him like he sometimes misses her.

 

“Hey,” she says, and he looks back to her—her eyes are so faraway, “you be careful alright?”

 

Suddenly he’s angry.

 

Has he not proven himself?  Has he not shown that he is no longer young and five years old?  He can stand, alone, with or without her just fine.  He doesn’t need her worry.  He tells her so.  Shouts it, rather.

 

The corner of her lips twitch, amused.

 

It only makes him angrier.

 

She raises her hand, as though she might touch him, and he braces himself to slap her away, but no such touch comes.  Instead, she lets her hand drop to the side.  Quiet.  The rumble of distant thunder and the pitter patter of rain.  He takes in a breath, and it’s then that he notes, faintly, the distance between them has never before been so stark, so cold.

 

Her eyes are glass.  He swallows, suddenly afraid—though what for, he does not know.

 

“Yeah,” she agrees, sad little smile playing on her cracked lips.  Her fingers curl loosely into a fist.  “You don’t need me.”  She turns her face away, a curtain of black silk hair falling between him and her.

 

His breath stutters.

 

She’s wrong.  He needs her, needs her like nothing else.  She is all he has left. 

 

One breath, then two.  He opens his mouth—closes it—opens it again.  Stupidly, he cannot find the courage to tell her so.

 

The rain falls harder.

 

She leaves without hearing it.  Leaves him in silence because he is a coward that cannot tell his sister that he loves her.  He watches her figure walk out the door, and follows her with his eyes until he can no longer see her.

 

Thunder rolls, startlingly loud in the silence.

 

He wonders if she is cold—as cold as he is, as he shuts his bedroom door quietly behind him. 

.

.

,

_...it's lonely here..._


	2. Decided to Wait

When she returns, he decides with finality, he will ask her.

 

And so he waits—

 

Blossoms begin to bloom, pink petals washed up in the dirty drains of late night Tokyo as winter fades into spring.  He trades his old overcoat for a whisper thin sweater, remembering how his sister used to lay beside him during the coldest of nights.

 


	3. And Wait

—and waits—

 

Paper airplanes cruise the air, taking haphazard flight from his beaten fingertips.  They land with no glory in the spring shower puddles outside the shanty he calls home.  As he watches them dissolve into snowflakes, Hinami wraps strips of dirty cloth around his cuts and tells him that kisses heal all wounds.

 


	4. And Wait Still

—and he still waits, though he tells no one because it makes him feel like—

The rain falls like teardrops against the glass of his bedroom window.  They slide down his reflection, smearing his face into obscurity.  He can’t help but think that he looks so much like his sister and wonders, whether Yomo takes after his grandfather or grandmother, and whether his mother looked anything like him.  And it is with this thought that, jarringly, he realizes that he no longer remembers his father’s face.

 

It’s been so long.

 

What does his father look like?

 

Who knows.

 

He lays his head down, and closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! The next chapters will be up soon, especially since they're pretty short.


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